C91 Reviews
Scotland
Ross Sinclair: Journey to the Edge of the World, 1999, three installation shots; courtesy Fruitmarket Gallery
The huff and puff of Hogmanay over with, New Year hangovers (and bank balances) were not helped by the arrival of application forms for group shows across the UK. New Contemporaries , East , Riverside , etc., all demand upwards of £10 to enter an open-submission. A new addition to the open-submission clan, the Absolut Open , débuted in Edinburgh's Inverleith House. It raised significant questions with relation to both open-submissions and large group exhibitions as a whole. Open to artists living in Scotland, the Absolut Open was £15 to enter. 30 artists were selected by Callum Innes, Jim Birrell and Susan Daniel McElroy from over 350 submissions. The exhibition heralded "a revival of the spirit which enables artists to exhibit their work irrespective of age, educational status or background." No mention of financial status in what was a well-meant statement, but the show pulled in over £5000 in entry fees. There was a well-deserved £4000 commission for Ross Birrell, but where did this money come from? There are various possibilities. Firstly, it could have been generated by the entry fees. Surely this couldn't be the case, depriving a lot of artists for the good of one (no matter how well-deserved).
If this wasn't the case, then possibly the show sponsors, Absolut, put up the cash. It was after all a commission for a work to be included in the Absolut International Collection (hardly the epitome of critical cool). If this is so, then there is still over five grand blowing around the Botanic Gardens, in which the gallery is situated. Maybe the cost of administration, advertising the submission process, or the putting on of the show itself took up some of these funds? As wrong as asking the artists to publicise the show would be, there was little in the way of publicity. Apart from a large opening with free drink and a pre-party, then a party, which Absolut must have paid for, it was hard to see what the need for a entrance fee would be.
The issue of entrance fees was eloquently taken up by the Collective Gallery's Sarah Munro in the ever-practical and reliable AN magazine. In a wake-up call to galleries and curators to ban submission fees, she pointed out that £15 is a lot of money for an emerging artist, with 83% of the Collective's membership declaring themselves as low-waged or unemployed. Munro highlights that "for too long individual artists have been subsidising the production and presentation of art to the public on behalf of the publicly funded arts infrastructure" That this should be happening at all is disappointing. That it should be happening under the backing of a supposed art sponsor such as Absolut is doubly insulting to all the artists, both rejected and selected. The act of completing and submitting an application (not without financial strains in itself) is proof enough of the artists' commitment to be shown alongside their contemporaries. As Munro fiercely points out, submissions can be a valid operational mode for expanding or extending a curator's awareness and knowledge of 'what's out there'. They can operate out of genuine concerns but there seems to be an ever-expanding number of opens and you can only hope they're not being used as excuses for cheap programme fillers and lazy institutions, allowing little shift in power relations between gallery and artist. As if to stress the point harder, the Collective is holding its own open-submission, which is of course free. The selected artists will each get a short show at the gallery, focusing on them individually, rather than putting one or two works in amongst a plethora of others. Which brings me back neatly to the Absolut Open
The gallery itself is a wonderful space on two floors, which has held sublime exhibitions in recent months that focused on two artists such as Richard Wright/Paul Morrison and Agnes Martin/John Maclaughlin. With over 50 works by the 30 artists it was chaotic to say the least. Large opens as such always are--often throwing up exciting connections and contradictions. It was hard to find any such excitement here. It was even harder to find Ben Woodeson's installation, which had been reduced to a proposed installation (lack of funds–surely not).
Trying to asses any one work, you were immediately distracted by another in close proximity. Without any curated theme to place these works in, you were left with a quick fix and little substance. The Absolut Open was based on the East Open in Norwich. However, I hope that the normally excellent Inverleith House will look closer to home, to the Collective for a model for its open. Birrell's work was also on show in the purposefully chaotic group show Lapland...Jesus, Mary and Joseph at Stills in Edinburgh. His Feng Shui Deathcamp was a sick highlight amongst many, often bizarre objects. These included a toy racing game with road markings of 20 th -century car fatalities such as Bolan, Camus and Diana, a watch with only the apt word 'now' printed on its face, an Emin-like print with the words 'Tracey Emin is a beautiful wanker', and the latest 7-inch from pop hopefuls Cunts in Wheelchairs (charming). This show worked in a shop aesthetic and was to be taken as such. A Duchamp urinal snowshaker proved very popular for only £20.
The strongest argument for exhibitions to focus more closely on individual artists could be witnessed at the Fruitmarket Gallery, Edinburgh, and Dundee Contemporary Arts. The Fruitmarket's Visions of the Future series kicked off with the pairing of Martin Boyce and Ross Sinclair. Here was an ambitious exhibition that focused upon the concerns of both artists in a concise and exciting manner. On entering the first room of this show you were pulled into an environment loaded with claustrophobia. The wallpaper designs of Martin Boyce covering the entire first room were apparently based on the opening credit sequences of Hitchcock's North by Northwest . The black, white and grey design echoed a modern city, not only with its resemblance to architecture, but its hustle and bustle and cinematic scale. The wallpaper evoked the claustrophobia of a large city, and made you want to leave the room quick sharp. Moving into a room on the right, you were confronted with two sets of photographs of a chair designed by Charles and Ray Eames. The chairs were propped under a door handle, as if to keep out an intruder.
Passing through the wallpaper room it occurred that it may have been the modern world that the 50s chairs were keeping out. The final room of Boyce's work held the biggest surprise. Immediately illuminated, you are trapped under the glare of a spider's web made up of fluorescent tubing attached to the ceiling. It was impossible to stay in this room for more than a minute, as the glare and humming of the lights soon induced a headache. The temptation to look again was immense. Transfixed under the light, stuck in the spider's web of a modern world.
Ross Sinclair's interpretation of the story of St Kilda held similar attractions. Until its evacuation in 1930, this small island was the most remote inhabited part of the UK. The community's existence was hand-to-mouth; everything that was gathered was shared equally. There was no money system, no police, no crime, no clocks, etc. (this should be applied to all open-submissions). However, this society, which had lived happily for a thousand years, was all but destroyed through outside pressure and contact with the modern world (and entry fees). The last inhabitants left 70 years ago this year. Sinclair takes this battle between an apparent Utopia and the modern world to explore the need for a real or imagined place to escape the pressures and disappointments of everyday life (and for me, Boyce's claustrophobia). Walls of cardboard boxes, some with stencilled slogans such as 'NO BEES, NO GOD, NO ART', fill the space. A wonderful cardboard-box parliament and a fictional map showing St Kilda dominate the space, along with a soundtrack of a lone Scottish voice singing folk songs. Exploring further, there is a cinema (of sorts), where images of St Kilda flicker in grainy black and white.
In a recent interview, Sinclair talked about how St Kilda died because the modern world was to harsh for it. In doing so it becomes a symbol for our aspirations of another place where things are much better than they are in everyday life. He believes that aspiration is a way of challenging the way things are.
Despite this, the most arresting image was film of Sinclair himself, naked, face down in the sea, with his famous 'Real Life' tattoo emblazoned across his shoulders. It is as if he had given up on any hope of ever reaching the utopia that St Kilda once was. The following exhibition at the Fruitmarket, The Flower Show , was a mess in contrast, with a selection of work that wasn't helped by a poor hanging and weak theme. If two, maybe three of the artists had been put under greater scrutiny then the show would have helped to give a better understanding of the individuals' work. Dundee Contemporary Arts has consistently held an excellent programme of exhibitions since opening in 1998. This is partly due to giving deserved solo exhibitions to prominent young artists. This policy continued with shows by Tacita Dean followed by Christine Borland. Both these exhibitions garnered much press attention and on the whole excellent reviews. Reading press cuttings prior to seeing the Borland show, you expected the second coming. The biggest surprise (and pleasure) was seeing how little was on show. The main gallery space was darkened and dominated by two huge screens showing slowly pulsating jellyfish. This cast a blue glow across the room which was mesmerising. Such a piece would have little or no effect in a larger show. The artist and the gallery should be praised for such a brave exhibition. It required time and patience, but the rewards were many. With the British Art Show due to kick off in Edinburgh in April it will be interesting to see how the individual galleries approach showing a large and diverse group of prominent artists (with a large Scottish contingent). The early signs are promising, with two or three artists per gallery.
A gallery's programme should be wide and varied, with an open hopefully playing a part in there somewhere. However, maybe two or three of Scotland's larger galleries could hold such an open to give artists a chance to expand upon their ideas, and not be crammed together in an exhibition that neither the gallery, the viewer, and most importantly, the artist benefits from.
Gordon Dalton is an artist; he is currently working for Scotland's music, art and politics magazine, PRODUCT .
